A Rose on the Wrist
by SirenAlpha
Summary: She asks to tattoo one of his bouquets onto him once again, and he doesn't know why she keeps asking. Fem!EnglandxRussia Human!AU


There was a mention of Flower shop and Tattoo shop AU post on tumblr and I decided it was perfect for Fem!England and Russia. As usual for me, England goes by Audrey and Russia by Ivan.

* * *

"You know, I could do one for you."

Ivan looks up from the bouquet he's arranging. Audrey's sitting on his counter again, and she opens up her soda can.

"A bouquet?" he asks.

"Yeah," she says, shrugging and tilting her head. "As a tattoo."

"I don't want one. I've told you a hundred times," he says, shifting a flower for the last time then nodding to himself.

"Why not? You really like bouquets. You have a flower shop," she says, gesturing to the place with her can.

"Yeah, that doesn't mean I need to get a tattoo of my work."

"I did," she says, gesturing with the can again, but this time to her arm.

"And it's very nice," he assures her.

She has tattoo sleeves on both arms. It would have been out of place and garish inside his shop if they weren't done like water color and made up of roses of all different kinds. She blends in perfectly despite her lip and eyebrow piercings and ripped up skinny jeans. Today she even has on her trademark spaghetti strap shirt that displays the roses that decorate her collar bones.

He traces the outline of a rose on her shoulder, and she tells him, "It doesn't have to be water color."

"But it's what you do best," he says, smiling.

"I do hire other people," she says, rolling her eyes.

"I don't need or want any tattoos from your shop."

He presses his forehead against hers. "It's not like you buy flowers from my shop."

"I like them better for inspiration here than dying at home."

He traces a vine along her collar bone. "You could paint them."

"Onto you?" she asks, smirking. "When are you going to let me do that?"

"When you get non-toxic paint."

"I can have it by this evening."

He shakes his head. "I should have guessed."

"Yeah, you should have," she says, guiding his lips to hers. A shiver always goes up his spine at the touch of her lip ring.

"My apartment?" he asks when she pulls away.

"If you want."

"Yes then."

"Alright," she says, hopping down from his counter. "I'll see you later."

He watches her as she leaves, and she gives him a smirk and a wink and she's out the door. He smiles to himself as he gets back to work.

That evening he buzzes her in, and when he opens the door she holds up a bag filled with paint and brushes. "Where do you want to do this?" she asks as she enters, kicking off her shoes.

"The bed?"

She shrugs. "If you've got an old towel to lie on."

"I do," he says, pulling it out of the linen closet on the way to his bedroom. He spreads it out and pulls off his shirt. She studies him as he lies down. She climbs up onto the bed to sit beside him.

"I guess I'll just do you your upper back seeing as you don't want to take all your clothes off."

He gives her a look, and she presses a kiss between his shoulder blades. Her lips are warm, but the paint is cold. He asks, "What are you painting?"

"You'll see."

He sighs and adjusts to the feeling of her paintbrush travelling across his skin. She begins to hum as she works. He relaxes and almost falls asleep.

"There we are," she says after how long, he doesn't know.

"Can I sit up?"

"I don't know, maybe wait a bit," she says as she closes up the paint again.

"I want to see it."

"Hold on, and I'll take a picture for you."

He hears the sound of her phone taking a picture then she leans forwards to show him the screen. On the screen, he sees his back covered in large carnations arranged in the manner he would a bouquet but in colors almost too bold to find in nature.

"Why carnations?" he asks.

"I thought they would be fun to paint and they were," she says, taking her phone back.

"It looks good."

"Good," she says, idly tracing her finger around the edge of the painting.

"Now I'll have to figure out how to get it off."

"I could help with that," she says, grinning at him.

"I would have thought you'd want to make it permanent."

"It doesn't have to happen right now," she says as she lies down to face him.

He puts his arm over her and pulls her close. "When you decide it can come off, you can help."

"Never," she says, laughing before leaning in to kiss him.

"But then you won't be able to do it again."

She runs her fingers through his hair, expression turning serious, and presses her lips to his again. "Then let's do it now."

"I'm not going anywhere," he assures her. "You can paint flowers on me as many times as you want."

She looks down and rests her hand on his neck. Then she looks at him. "Maybe you're right to not get a tattoo."

"You've got enough for the both of us," he says, slipping his hand underneath her shirt to run his fingertips over the tattoo of a rose he's memorized the position of just above her hip bone. She sighs at his touch.

"Maybe just one then," she says, stroking the ends of his hair. "On the inside of your wrist."

"Why there?"

"I don't know, so I can trace it like you do mine."

"I'll consider it," he says, then kisses her.

"Please do."

"Why do you care so much?" he asks, turning onto his side so he can prop himself up on one arm.

"It's nothing," she says, shaking her head.

"You wouldn't ask if it was."

She doesn't answer and he runs his fingers through her hair. She sighs and looks at him. "I just wanted something permanent, something of us."

She looks away, and he frowns. "Does it have to be a tattoo?"

"What? Are you more open to a piercing?"

"No, but maybe," he says then sighs. "We should consider moving in together."

She whips her head around to stare at him with wide open eyes. "That's a lot more than just a little tattoo."

"Yes, but I don't want a tattoo and I want to live with you," he says, not looking away from her. "You want something to prove commitment, right? You only started bothering me about a tattoo this past month, and we've been dating over a year."

She searches him with her mouth half open. "I never expected to get this far with a boy."

He closes his eyes and smiles. "And now that you are, what are you going to do?"

She reaches out and cradles his face in her hands. "I'm going to say yes."

He sighs, tension he hadn't know he had been carrying disappearing. "Good."

He leans over her and kisses her, and her hands over his back and the paint creates a unique sensation, pressure with little warmth and familiarity. He pulls away, and she grins at him, tapping her fingers on his back.

"Is it time to clean you up?"

"Yes, I'd say so."

* * *

Just needed something like this, and I didn't want to forget about it, so I made sure to get it up. I hope you liked it.

Please review!


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